Harry Potter and Life After Death
by Eighties Author
Summary: Takes place the summer after the last HP book much as in JKR's style. Harry's had a miserable summer after Sirius's death, but his growing powers, along with staff changes at Hogwarts, prove to make this school year one that is full of surprises!
1. Chapter One

_Disclaimer: _Obviously, none of these characters belong to me (at least, not yet – I may create new characters as the story progresses). I feel very honored to be able to use JKR's creations to share my imagination and my writing. 

I have been tinkering with fan fiction since the 1980s (hence my screen name). I don't even know if it was called fan fiction back then, and there definitely was no sharing and reviewing over the Internet, since Al Gore hadn't invented it yet (ha ha!) I am new at posting fan fiction, though, so please bear with me if I don't have all the nuances down yet. A big thank you to everyone who reviews me – I appreciate constructive criticism!

-c.k.

_**CHAPTER ONE: Solitary Summer**_

Perfect summer days in England are a rarity, so when a sunny, slightly breezy, pleasantly warm day occurs, it seems the whole population embarks outside to enjoy the ideal weather. The air becomes filled with the buzz of lawn mowers and weed trimmers, so that when the sound is missing, things feel too quiet. Children can be heard laughing and calling to each other as they ride bicycles or play in the park, and elderly couples sit on their doorsteps in the evenings to watch the sunset. Even the residents of number four, Privet Drive change their routine to take advantage of these beautiful days. Dudley Dursley spends less time in front of the televisions, even if it is only to walk to the area shops and stand outside the storefronts with Piers Polkiss and an assortment of other bullies. Dudley's gang's favorite outdoors activity is to lean against the brick buildings and mutter rude observations about passersby to each other, laughing nastily while drinking bottled soda and smoking cigarettes. Dudley's parents still knew nothing of this habit, as Dudley was very careful to only smoke far away from home, to chew gum or eat something when he was finished, and to make sure his clothes no longer smelled of smoke when he returned to Privet Drive.

As for Dudley's parents, Vernon Dursley could be seen walking to the nearby café on his lunch break when the weather was nice. Occasionally he would swing his briefcase, or whistle. Petunia Dursley spent more time in her garden, wearing a huge sunhat which seemed could topple her bony frame if she wasn't careful and stood up too quickly. The only member of Privet Drive who didn't venture outside to enjoy the idyllic summer days, who didn't even notice the cloudless blue skies and sparkling sun, was Harry Potter.

In fact, Harry had spent so much of the summer alone in his bedroom that some neighbors had begun to wonder if "that Potter boy" had even returned from his school for the summer holiday. Of course, these neighbors also believed that Harry's school was St. Brutus's Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys. They had no idea that Harry really attended Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

There was one person on Privet Drive, besides the Dursleys, who did know that Harry was a wizard. Arabella Figg, whom Harry had beforehand only thought of as an eccentric, cat-loving old woman, was actually from a wizarding family. It was just last summer that Harry had discovered that Mrs. Figg had been residing on Privet Drive mainly to keep watch over him. Considering that Harry's parents had been murdered by the dark wizard Voldemort, and that Voldemort had also tried to kill Harry, it stood to reason that he might need some protection. Although Harry had escaped Lord Voldemort's fury five times now, and not one of the times had Mrs. Figg been helpful in aiding him. Unfortunately, Mrs. Figg was a squib – a member of a magical family who has no magic talent. The fact that Harry's summer "protector" was somewhat useless didn't bother Harry as much as it could have… Number four Privet Drive was one place where Harry was usually quite safe from Lord Voldemort. When Harry had been placed on Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia's doorstep some fifteen years ago, Hogwarts headmaster Albus Dumbledore had cast a spell that made Harry safe while inside the home of his only remaining family. This was one reason why Harry had been spending the majority of summer indoors. The other reason was that the sunny, joyful days held no happiness for him.

For once, it wasn't the Durselys' influence that had prompted Harry's demeanor. Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, and Dudley had taken to heart the "direction" they had received from Harry's wizarding friends at the beginning of the summer holiday. Arthur Weasley, Mad-Eye Moody, and Remus Lupin had informed the Dursleys that Harry was to be treated with respect and fairness while at Privet Drive, which included telephone privileges and the opportunity to contact his Hogwarts friends. And at the beginning of the summer Harry had put his family to the test, as the phone regularly rang with calls from Hermione, and as Hedwig delivered him a variety of encouraging letters on a nightly basis (for Uncle Vernon was still adamant that "that ruddy owl" didn't leave her cage during daylight hours). But Uncle Vernon had not refused Harry any of his phone calls, and more often than not, Harry had been left alone to talk on the telephone in peace. Whenever Uncle Vernon or Aunt Petunia had started to look like they might protest, all Harry had to do was say something like, "Okay, but if my friends are worried about me, they might just come here to Little Whinging to see if I'm all right. I mean, Mad-Eye Moody already knows the way…" The threat worked quite well. Uncle Vernon would turn away, his face becoming purple as he mumbled something to himself about "Only a few more years…"

Harry often had the same thought. He was almost sixteen. In just a few years he would be an adult, able to leave the Dursleys and be on his own. He would be done with his Hogwarts schooling, and could decide where he was going to go next to get the best education for his chosen career. And it was this train of thought that eventually drove him into a bleak depression. He had wanted to be an auror. He had wanted to live with Sirius. But Sirius was dead, and suddenly magic, Hogwarts, and everything and everyone that went with it didn't cheer Harry as it used to. At first, the phone calls and letters from his friends had been somewhat heartening. It was helpful to know that even while Sirius was gone, Ron, Hermione, Lupin, and Hagrid were still a big part of his life. They were all sincerely concerned about him, and contacted him regularly to see how he was doing. But it was only a short while before all of the attention became almost suffocating. Sirius was dead, and nothing could bring him back. It didn't matter how much comfort his friends offered, they still couldn't change the fact that Sirius was gone. First Harry had lost his parents, whom he had never known. Now he had lost Sirius, before he had really gotten to know him, either. He was sick of it. He was sick of being reminded of it. So he stopped calling Hermione, and stopped writing to Ron. He stopped visiting Mrs. Figg, who had been treating him almost as a long-lost grandson now that he knew her identity. And as Harry detached himself from his magical friends, they slowly decreased their constant contact. Hermione sent a few confused letters by owl post. Arthur Weasley even wrote to Harry, saying in no uncertain terms that if Harry needed anything, he wasn't to hesitate in contacting the Weasleys. Harry didn't respond. He felt a little guilty, but he was also fairly sure his friends had daily updates on his welfare from Mrs. Figg. The Dursleys had no idea about Mrs. Figg's magical background, and when she tottered by to chat at Aunt Petunia about a cat that had gone missing or about Aunt Petunia's garden, Harry knew that what she was secretly doing was gazing up at his bedroom window. Aunt Petunia merely nodded at Mrs. Figg and murmured random answers to her questions, all the while wrinkling her nose as if ready to sneeze. Aunt Petunia was allergic to cats.

The summer days melted into one another, so that when Harry's birthday approached at the end of July, he was surprised the day had arrived so quickly. Hedwig had been noticeably absent from her cage for several days, and it was this fact more than the calendar that made Harry aware that his birthday had arrived. Most likely, Hedwig was collecting his birthday regards.

True to Harry's assumption, Hedwig finally returned to Privet Drive just past sunset on Harry's birthday. She was accompanied by Pigwidgeon, Ron's minute owl, and another haughty-looking tawny owl that Harry could only guess held a delivery from Hermione. Hedwig swooped into the open window gracefully, which was somewhat difficult considering the large package she was grasping in her talons. Dropping the brown paper-wrapped package on Harry's bed, Hedwig headed for her cage, only to have her route blocked by Pig. Ron's owl had also dropped his delivery (it fell on the floor with a _thunk_, prompting Harry to hope Ron hadn't sent anything breakable). Being much smaller than Hedwig, Pig was able to beat the snow-white owl to her large cage. Pigwidgeon helped himself to the water in Hedwig's bowl while Harry's owl hooted impatiently.

The tawny owl had stopped in the window to perch on the sill. It also began to hoot, trying to get Harry's attention as it held out its leg. "All right, all right, just shut up, will you?" Harry muttered, wondering if Uncle Vernon could hear the chorus of hoots coming from his bedroom. Harry untied the bulky envelope from the tawny owl's leg, and with a final hoot, it turned and took off into the twilight sky. Meanwhile, Pig had finished sampling Hedwig's water, and after dipping around Harry's head a few times, he followed the tawny owl out the window. Harry was left alone with Hedwig and the three deliveries.

He picked up Ron's package first, and unwrapped it quickly. There was a parchment letter wrapped around a heavy box of individually wrapped taffy-like candies. The outside of the box was decorated with several small entwined red W's, and in larger letters it read: "Two W's Tricks and Treats." Harry grinned as a rush of happiness that he hadn't felt in a long while came over him. Fred and George had made a go of it – they were actually producing and selling the magical sweets they had been practicing brewing up over the past few years. Turning the box over, Harry read the description of the wrapped candies contained inside:

**Red: Instant warmth. Never worry about frostbite again! ****Gain an edge on your opponents during winter quidditch matches.**

**Blue: Instant cool. Muggles would love to get their hands on these! ****Much easier than "air conditioning."**

**Yellow: Also known as Cat's Eyes. Amaze your friends by being able ****to see in the dark without your wand!**

**Orange: Having a bad day? Try these "chewable cheer charms."**

**Green: Ever wanted to be a few inches taller? Try one of these, ****and you'll grow like a weed!**

Setting the box aside, Harry picked up Ron's letter.

_Harry,_

_I hope you are doing all right. My dad said Dumbledore has been keeping an eye on you, and that as long as we don't hear anything, you must be okay. I hope he's right._

_We've been in London for most of the summer. A lot has happened. Mum is finally talking to Fred and George again. She was really upset with how they left school, but I think she didn't want things to end up like they did with Percy, so they are trying to work things out. Fred and George even compromised with her a little and closed the shop they had rented on Diagon Alley. I feel sorry for my dad, though – Mum ended up getting mad at him instead. Just because he helped Fred and George find a new shop to rent in Hogsmeade._

_I think Hogwarts is going to be very different this year. I've talked to Hermione a couple of times (she came here to visit). We both can't wait to talk to you. I can't really say more in a letter. Just that there are going to be some big changes._

_Have a Happy Birthday, Harry. Maybe we'll see you in Diagon Alley. Are you coming early to get your new books? Hermione and I will look for you in the Leaky Cauldron._

_Ron_

_P.S. Be careful with Fred and George's sweets. If you take two reds at once, you'll get sunburn. And Lee Jordan ate a green one that Fred and George reckon was defective – he's outgrown all his clothes. His mum is pretty mad._

_Ron_

Harry eyed the box of candy warily. He'd seen the effects that "defective" Weasley concoctions produced. Maybe it would be best to save them to sample once back in Hogwarts, when he would be close to the hospital wing.

Hermione's letter was next. Opening the envelope, he shook out both Hermione's letter and a small box which appeared to be a deck of cards. When he looked at the box more closely, he saw that was exactly what it was: a deck of Wizard Solitaire. Harry put the cards down and picked up Hermione's letter.

_Dear Harry,_

_I hope this letter finds you well. Ron and I have been writing back and forth, and he told me his father assures him you are all right. I would like to hear that from you directly, but I understand if you don't feel like writing. I miss Snuffles, too, and I know it must be much worse for you._

Harry paused in reading Hermione's letter as her last sentence sunk in. A wave of selfishness overwhelmed him. Hermione and Ron had been close with Sirius, too. Harry had been so busy with his own pain that he hadn't stopped to think that his friends were also hurting. He had already been feeling guilty that his friends still had been thoughtful enough to send him birthday presents, even when he had been rudely ignoring them. Now the guilt was doubled. Harry made a mental note to start composing thank-you notes tonight, then returned to Hermione's letter.

_I have visited London and our friends once this summer. There are some big changes coming, especially at Hogwarts. You're going to be surprised. I can tell you more when I see you. Ron and I are planning on meeting at the Leaky Cauldron the week before term, to buy our new supplies and catch up after the summer. I hope you can meet us. Please let us know._

_Happy Birthday,_

_Hermione_

Harry folded Hermione's letter, and looked again at the solitaire game. It occurred to him the hint that Hermione had dropped by sending him this particular card game. "Very funny, Hermione," Harry said quietly, but found he was smiling as he said it.

The last package was the large one Hedwig had brought. Inside the brown paper were several cards, all bundled together. After removing the string, Harry looked at each card in turn. There were ones from Ginny, Tonks, Mad-Eye Moody, Lupin, Hagrid, Kingsley Shacklebolt – it seemed there were regards from almost everyone in the Order of the Phoenix. Harry could only imagine how all of these cards had been collected so that they could all be delivered to him on time. He looked up at Hedwig and saw that she was asleep in her cage, her head burrowed down into her feathers as she breathed deeply. He had an idea she had been flying quite a bit the past few days. She wouldn't be very happy when he sent her out before dawn with the thank-you notes.

Harry gathered the cards up again, and put them, along with Ron and Hermione's gifts, in the drawer of his desk. Although Uncle Vernon hadn't been bringing up Harry's "abnormality" quite as much this summer, it still wouldn't do to leave items out in the open that would touch off his uncle's temper. Especially considering the last sweets that Fred and George had brought into Privet Drive, and the rather unfortunate effect they'd had on Dudley.

Next Harry rummaged in the trunk at the foot of his bed until he found a quill and some parchment. He sat down to write to his friends.

Once he began, he found it wasn't nearly as hard as he had thought it would be.


	2. Chapter Two

**_CHAPTER TWO: A Waking Nightmare  
_**  
"Boy! I won't wait for you any longer!"  
Harry heard Uncle Vernon's yell, but didn't bother to process the words. Instead, he took one more quick look around his sparsely decorated bedroom, hoping he had remembered to pack his trunk with everything he needed for school. He supposed he could cast a summoning spell once he got to Hogwarts if he realized he'd left something behind, but Harry had an idea the Dursleys wouldn't hold well with items flying of their own accord out of Harry's empty bedroom.  
Harry carried his trunk down the stairs, depositing it at Uncle Vernon's feet, then turned to again climb up to his bedroom. "Where do you think you're going now?" Uncle Vernon demanded.  
"I've got to get Hedwig! Unless you'd rather I left her here – "  
"Get that damned owl! And make sure you throw a sheet over her cage – I won't have the neighbors talking!"  
Harry stopped at the linen closet, removing one of the second-hand sheets that Aunt Petunia demanded he use for his bed. Handed down from Dudley, Harry's bedsheets were usually ripped and stained with anything from chocolate to gravy. When Hedwig saw Harry approaching her cage with the sheet, she began to flap her wings and hoot indignantly. "I know, I'm sorry, Hedwig! It's only for the ride to London." Harry grasped Hedwig's sheet-covered cage awkwardly, then proceeded down the stairs a final time.  
Uncle Vernon had dragged Harry's trunk out to the car, and was now back inside, bidding Aunt Petunia good-bye. "Where is Dudley off to?" Uncle Vernon asked. Aunt Petunia smiled. "Oh, his friends came calling. Our Dudders is quite the popular one!" Uncle Vernon grunted with satisfaction, but Harry had thought he heard an uncomfortable tone in his aunt's voice. He looked closer at her now, and when his eyes connected with hers, she looked away quickly, again smiling earnestly at her husband. It occurred to Harry that maybe Aunt Petunia knew a little bit more about Dudley's "recreations" than Dudley expected. Harry himself had found out last summer (along with Dudley and Uncle Vernon) that Aunt Petunia knew a little bit more about the wizarding world than any of them had expected. It made Harry wonder how much more knowledge his aunt kept to herself.  
"Well, I'll be back before dinner," Uncle Vernon said. He kissed his wife on the cheek. "Remember to plan for only three!" Whereas Aunt Petunia's voice had sounded forced, Uncle Vernon's sounded positively giddy. He turned to Harry. "Let's go, boy."  
Although it was only Uncle Vernon and Harry, Harry chose to sit in the back of the car. He watched the traffic and surroundings quietly, occasionally lifting the sheet off of Hedwig's cage to give her a reassuring, apologetic look. Uncle Vernon listened to the business report on the radio, and acted very much as if Harry wasn't even in the car. It was looking to be a very long car ride. To make the time pass faster, Harry leaned his head back and closed his eyes. He thought about staying at the Leaky Cauldron with Ron and Hermione, catching up with his friends as they sat around eating anything and everything that old Tom would serve them. He thought about walking through Diagon Alley with a pocketful of spending cash, not having to hide the fact that he was a wizard. He thought about the upcoming school term at Hogwarts and how he would be free (at least for a time) from the Dursleys.  
Harry wasn't sure when he drifted off to sleep, or even that he had really fallen fully asleep. One moment he was aware of his head resting against the warm pane of glass that was the back seat window, and the sound of traffic just outside the car door. The next moment he was standing in the Department of Mysteries at the Ministry of Magic. In front of him was an archway made of what appeared to be ancient stone. Hanging from the archway was an aged black veil that moved softly as if a gentle breeze were blowing. Harry stared at the veil without moving, barely able to breathe. He had seen this veil many times in his dreams over the summer, but something was different this time. Even as he stood on the rock dais, he could still hear the droning of Uncle Vernon's car radio. He could still feel the heat of the sun upon his face, even though the room in which the veil stood was bleak and dark.  
And the voices were different. Always in Harry's dreams he could hear Sirius behind the veil. Sirius, calling him softly, seeming to encourage Harry to walk through the archway to join his godfather. Harry could never make out the words in his dreams, but the cheerful tone in Sirius's voice made Harry feel an inner tug, a powerful desire to walk forward that seemed impossible to ignore. But this time, the voice Harry heard came from another source, and while it was familiar, it was not Sirius. This oily, drawling voice came from behind Harry, and it was accompanied by a hand on Harry's shoulder. "What are you waiting for, Potter?"  
Harry stiffened as Snape's grip on his shoulder tightened. A horn beeped somewhere in the distance, and Uncle Vernon said a rude word under his breath.  
"He can see you, "Snape continued. "He knows your actions, your thoughts and fears. What are you going to do about it?"  
Harry fought to clear his mind, to separate what he knew was real from what felt like a dream. The two worlds continued to blend together, as he could feel Snape's breath on his neck as real as he could feel the car seat he was sitting upon. Harry tried to concentrate on the feel of the car seat, refusing to look behind him for fear that he would see Snape instead of a rear window.  
"I asked you what you are going to do!" Snape's words were harsh and impatient, and frustrated anger prevented Harry from trying to perceive his surroundings. He stared at the mysterious veil before him. "I – I want to be with Sirius," he stammered.  
Snape inhaled sharply. "That is what he wants, as well. Are you going to give in so easily? I thought the 'famous' Harry Potter was so strong. You continue to let him control you! The wizarding world has foolishly put their faith in an reckless, emotional boy."  
Harry felt his breath quicken and his face grow heated. He wanted desperately to prove Snape wrong, but the potions professor's words fanned his temper like a flame. Snape made a sound that was half chuckle, half scoff. "Well, don't keep him waiting, Potter. Can't you hear him calling?"  
In that instant, all noise faded away. There was no traffic, no radio, and no sound of Hedwig rustling restlessly in her cage. Harry couldn't even hear his own breathing. All he was aware of was the dark curtain in before him, the only sound he could hear was the minuscule whispers of the rippling fabric. And then, a voice. A soft voice that was at once alarming and enticing, foreboding and promising. Snape was right. The voice was calling him. Harry felt his body leaning forward, almost of its own accord. There was nothing else, no one else, no thought in Harry's mind other than that voice. He had to follow it, he had to find it. His right foot stepped forward, lifting from the stone base of the archway and –  
Several things then happened. The grip that Snape had on Harry's shoulder suddenly became painfully strong, and Harry felt himself being pulled back so roughly that he slammed against the back of the car seat. At the same time, an enraged howl filled Harry's head, rising from a low roar to an ear-piercing scream. The otherworldly sound of the scream was mingled with the screech of tires, and as Harry opened his eyes, he saw that Uncle Vernon had pulled the car over to the side of the street. Once again, it was just Harry, Hedwig, and Uncle Vernon in the car. The Department of Mysteries and Snape had disappeared.  
Uncle Vernon turned around in his seat, and his eyes narrowed suspiciously as he looked at Harry. "What are you doing?" he demanded.  
Harry realized he had his hands tightly clamped over his ears. The sound of the scream was still fresh in his memory; in fact, it seemed he could still hear a slowly fading echo. "Didn't you hear..?" Harry trailed off as he lowered his hands, not daring to finish the sentence. It did not seem like a good idea to describe to his uncle what he had just experienced. Instead, he looked out at the surroundings, and saw that Uncle Vernon had stopped the car about two blocks down from the Leaky Cauldron.  
"What are you waiting for?"  
Harry jerked his head back around to look at Uncle Vernon. "What did you say?"  
"I said, what are you waiting for! I haven't all day. Get your bird and your things. This is as far as I am going to take you into that...neighborhood." Uncle Vernon looked around anxiously, spying an older man with a walking cane. Uncle Vernon gave the man a wary look, obviously mistrusting the cane, and locked his door.  
Harry quickly opened the back door and scrambled out of the car, bumping Hedwig's cage against the door frame in the process. He set down the cage as Hedwig hooted up at him angrily, then moved to the rear of the car to lift out his trunk. Harry's whole body was inexplicably aching, and as he lowered his trunk onto the sidewalk, he narrowly missed dropping it onto his foot. Harry heard his uncle snicker. "Right, then." Uncle Vernon looked very jolly as he turned back around in his car seat and pulled away from the curb, leaving Harry standing on the side of the street without so much as a good-bye.  
Harry watched his uncle's car disappear back into traffic. As soon as he was sure Uncle Vernon was well out of sight, Harry dropped down onto his trunk and let out a shaky sigh. He was shuddering, and felt somewhat weak. His head throbbed. The echo of the scream had finally ceased, but the frightened memory of it was another matter. Harry lifted a shaking hand to push his sweaty bangs away from his glasses. Part of his mind was trying to understand the "dream" he had just had, while another part wanted to ignore the whole episode altogether. At least until he had gotten to the Leaky Cauldron. Right now, sitting on the side of the London streets with a sheet- covered cage and a large moving trunk, he was already attracting odd looks. Harry forced himself to his feet, and pulling the sheet off of Hedwig's cage, shoved it into his trunk. Before closing the lid, Harry retrieved his wand. He quickly stuck the wand in the back pocket of his jeans, at the same time pulling out his shirt and letting his shirttail hang over his waist. Then grabbing a handle of his trunk in one hand and Hedwig's cage in the other, Harry walked the two blocks to the Leaky Cauldron. 


	3. Chapter Three

**CHAPTER THREE: Reunion at The Leaky Cauldron**

Harry had barely reached the steps of the Leaky Cauldron before the dilapidated door opened. Two familiar faces appeared framed in the doorway.

"Say, mate, would you like hand with that trunk?"

Still aching and a little shaken from his dream, Harry felt a glare form on his face as he looked up to answer Ron's sarcastic comment. Instead, the sight of his two best friends prompted an uncontrollable smile. Harry hadn't realized how much he had missed Ron and Hermione, and at that moment he really couldn't think of anyplace he'd rather be.

"Oh, Ron, really!" Hermione's tone was more good-natured than chastising. She was beaming at Harry, and Ron's freckled face also wore a large grin. Ron and Hermione each grabbed an end of Harry's trunk, lugging it into the dusky building as Harry followed with Hedwig.

Hedwig seemed to instantly realize where she was. As soon as the door closed, greatly diminishing the hustle and bustle of the London streets, Harry's owl began to flap her wings and hoot excitedly. Harry set down Hedwig's cage and unlatched it. The snow-white owl bolted from the cage like a runner that had just heard the firing of a starter's pistol. Harry watched Hedwig soar down the hall, obviously in search of an open window that would give her access to Diagon Alley. Harry could hardly blame her – after spending a summer with the Dursleys, he felt very much the same way.

Hermione grasped Harry's arm, and he turned back toward her. "Let's go up and talk." Her expression was so somber that Harry didn't protest. He watched Ron and Hermione as they quickly exchanged anxious looks. "What is it? What's wrong?" he asked.

"It's better to talk in the room, Harry," Ron answered. "Hermione's charmed the door."

Ron and Hermione continued to carry Harry's trunk as they climbed the stairs to the rooms; after lugging it for two blocks, Harry was quite willing to let them do so. The three entered the room that Harry supposed would be his and Ron's; once inside, he could see Ron's clothes strung about on one of the beds, and a familiar small owl perched on the bedpost. "Hullo again, Pig," Harry said.

Ron glanced at his owl, then went over to the window. "You'd better go out now, Pig," he said. "We've got to close the window for a while." Pigwidgeon ruffled his feathers, hooting balefully at the trio, and then took off out the window. Ron shrugged, closing the window. "He's tired – he just got in not too long ago. But it's better that no one can hear us."

Harry looked between his two friends, finally really seeing them for the first time. Although tan and taller (if that was at all possible), Ron didn't look too different. But once Harry viewed Hermione –

"Hermione! Your hair!"

Hermione blushed, raising a hand to her head. Instead of the long, sometimes bushy hair that Harry had equated with Hermione for the past five years, she now sported a short, tapered cut. It was actually quite attractive, and coupled with the rosy blush rising on Hermione's cheeks, Harry found himself thinking how pretty she looked. It wasn't the first time that he had thought this – at the Yule Ball two years ago, during the Triwizard Tournament, Harry had been startled into realizing that his bookworm friend could be very pretty. But that had been a special occasion, and everyone had been dressed up and looking not quite like themselves. Once out of the formal attire, it was easy to once again regard Hermione as her studious, no-nonsense self.

It was obvious that wasn't going to work this time. As Harry cast his eyes down, he saw that there were other "new" changes to Hermione besides the haircut. Ron began to snigger, and, realizing that he was staring, Harry felt his face begin to blush as red as Hermione's, He turned to look at Ron guiltily, but it seemed Ron hadn't noticed Harry's embarrassment. "Do you know why her hair is short? Tell, him, Hermione!" Ron said breathlessly.

Hermione's face became even a deeper red, but it seemed this time the blush was of anger. "Ron, that's really not what we need to talk to Harry about – "

"Oh, come on, Hermione," Ron said. "I think Harry could use a laugh." When Hermione didn't answer, instead crossing her arms defiantly, Ron explained for her. "She screwed up a spell!" Ron's expression eerily reminded Harry of the look on Uncle Vernon's face when he had told Aunt Petunia "to plan for only three" for dinner. Ron went on, almost unable to get the words out between the laughs. "Miss perfect prefect, Miss a hundred and twelve per cent!" Ron's words dissolved into laughter again. Perplexed, Harry looked at Hermione. She sighed impatiently. "No one's perfect, Ron. Do I have to remind you about the slugs?"

Ron stopped laughing abruptly. "That's not the same thing! It was a good spell, it's just that my wand was broken. If it hadn't been, Malfoy would've been sicking up the slugs! And what about the Polyjuice Potion? I'm not the one that turned myself into a cat!"

Hermione seemed ready to fire back when Harry moved forward to put himself bodily in between the two. "Stop it!" he said, and both Ron and Hermione quieted, although it was obvious the argument could've continued indefinitely. Harry looked at Ron. "Hermione's right: no one's perfect." He turned to Hermione. "And what kind of spell mix-up could cut your hair?"

Hermione sent one final glare toward Ron, then sat down on the uncluttered bed. "I tried to transform my hair color, like Tonks does," she admitted to Harry.

Ron snorted. "It's not so simple -unlessit's something you're born with, like how you can talk to snakes, Harry."

"I know that," Harry said. "Tonks told me. She's a Metamorphagus. I thought you knew that," he said to Hermione.

"Oh, she knew," Ron answered. He had a smug look. "But Hermione just wouldn't accept that there was a spell she couldn'tmaster once she's looked it up in a book."

Hermione was obviously tired of Ron's interpretation of events. "I did learn the spell…somewhat," she interrupted. "I did change my hair color. The only problem was changing it back."

Ron began laughing again, and was holding his side as if a cramp had set in. "Only half of her hair changed back. She was too embarrassed to ask anyone for help, so she finally had to give up and cut it. It's too bad you didn't get to see it, Harry. Green just isn't her color."

Harry was torn between laughing along with Ron and feeling sympathetic toward Hermione. He was actually impressed that Hermione had found the determination and the skill to attempt a metamorphis. At the same time, it was reassuring to know that Hermione wasn't quite as infallible as she sometimes seemed.

Hermione stared at Ron expectantly. Ron finally sat himself down on the clothes-covered bed, obviously having to force himself to stop laughing. It wasn't long before Harry's two friends regarded him seriously again, and as Harry stood in the middle of the room he felt a growing foreboding. The dream he had experienced during the ride to the Leaky Cauldron suddenly exploded freshly in his memory, drowning any temporary pleasure he had received during the reunion.

"I think I need to talk to – " Harry started, and at the same time, Hermione said, "Well, I know you've been waiting all summer to hear – " They both stopped talking at the same time, sharing an awkward laugh. "You go ahead, Harry," Hermione said.

"No, that's okay." Harry wasn't really that anxious to share his dream, and the strange feelings it had produced. He felt he probably would need to let Hermione and Ron know what had happened, but, anticipating their worried reactions, it was something he didn't mind putting off. "I do want to know what's been happening here," he said next, sitting on the bed near Ron. "Your letters – well, I know something's happened at Hogwarts. And I don't really want to start the term in the dark."

"You wouldn't be the only one," Ron said. "I mean, the only reason Hermione and I know anything is because of the Order."

"That's why we couldn't tell you, Harry," Hermione explained plaintively. "If anyone intercepted our letters, well, they would know that we had inside information. They could find out that Ron parent's and brother were in the order. Especially now that everything is so hush-hush at the Ministry of Magic…"

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, confused.

Ron's face clouded slightly. "Everything is incredibly confidential now. The Ministry is worried about attacks. You-know-who hasn't really been as…active as everyone thought he might be – at least, not that anyone knows of – but the Ministry isn't taking any chances. There's security charms at every entrance, you have to file a form in triplicate to use a Portkey, and only certain witches and wizards are allowed to Apparate. My dad has to come by floo powder now. After what happened to him last year…"

Harry knew that Ron was talking about how Arthur Weasley had been attacked by a serpent while guarding a prophecy at the Ministry. "But – that's not – it wasn't your dad's fault! He stayed at his post – he could've gotten killed, protecting the Ministry! And that's how they repay him!"

"You don't have to convince, me, Harry," Ron answered darkly. "We've all been pretty angry about it. Except for Mum. She keeps telling us we should be glad Dad still has a job. And Dad says he doesn't mind using the fireplace to travel."

"Ron and his brothers are taking it personally," Hermione interrupted. "But his parents understand."

"Understand what?" Harry asked. Ron had a sour look on his face, and he didn't respond.

Hermione continued. "When Voldemort came to power before, Harry, everything was like how it is now at the Ministry. There were security charms and extra protection everywhere. There were curfews at Hogsmeade, and Hogwarts was almost like a prison. People were suspicious of everyone, and sometimes it was easier to fire people that you didn't trust than to worry about what would happen if they had divided loyalties. I know because I've been reading up on that time period, but Mr. and Mrs. Weasley went through it. They remember how it used to be."

"But that doesn't mean that Dad should be singled out, and after all the years he's been loyal to the Ministry!" Ron said heatedly.

"Well, it doesn't help that Percy is an assistant to the Minister of Magic," Hermione said automatically, and Harry got the impression that Ron and Hermione had had this discussion many times before.

Ron drew in a breath, ready to fire back, but Harry was getting impatient with the two of them. "All right! I understand!" he said. "You couldn't tell me anything in the letters because you aren't supposed to know anything, right? Because the Ministry is being so secretive. Right?" he asked again when neither Hermione or Ron answered him.

Ron sentone moreangry look in Hermione's direction, then sighed. "Yes," he said finally, his shoulders slumping slightly as he relaxed. "The only reason we know about the staff changes at Hogwarts is because Snape's in the Order."

At the mention of Snape's name, Harry once again recalled the uncomfortable episode he'd had in Uncle Vernon's car. He felt his body absorbing the tenseness that had just left Ron's. "Snape? What does Snape have to do with the staff changes?"

Hermione rose, coming to kneel before Harry and Ron. "Snape _is_ the staff change, Harry," she said quietly. "He finally got what he's been wanting for years – he's the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."


End file.
